


Awakening of the Soul

by Hawkflight



Series: The Gorgeous Rage [2]
Category: Claymore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Awaken means losing one's humanity. At least, that's what the Organization says.</p><p>Sequel to A Passing Memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to A Passing Memory, as promised.
> 
> Fun pointless little fact: I was listening to the beat of G-Dragon and Taeyang's song Good Boy while writing the yoma fighting scene. For some reason it just... fits, in my mind anyway.

Blood flew through the air, parting like rain around the blade that had just cut through it's most recent target. Purple specks landed on the gray slabs of stone below with another swish of the blade.

The body of the yoma slid to the ground beyond the Claymore, split open from shoulder to hip to lay in a puddle of purple blood.

Miria stepped away from the corpse, turning on her heel to face the direction of the other yoma she could still sense. With the villagers boarded up in their houses she took her time walking down the path between the buildings. The only other sound besides the clicking of her boots on the stone was the wind racing around the wood framework, howling as it slipped through the thin slits between windows, doors, cracks in the walls.

From that it was obvious to her the yoma was trying to hide, trying to suppress it's yoki. It really should know better. A yoma could never hide from a Claymore, not for very long anyway.

"Do us both a favor and shed your human skin, yoma. I can sense you, surely you know this? Your comrades died fighting. Do you really want to die hiding?"

"Claymore," it hissed the single word with such venom a human would have frozen on the spot from the hatred filling the word.

Miria only stepped back as the yoma fell from the sky, having launched itself off the roof of one of the houses. The stone cracked beneath it's feet where she had been a second before. There was drool running down it's chin as it stared up at her, realizing it's mistake as her sword cut through it's neck and the demon's head went flying to smack into a wall.

She swung her blade once more to dispel the blood still clinging to the metal before sliding it into the slot in her armor.

Miria walked back to where the chief of the village had hid, behind a closed door. She spoke through the cracks in the wood, "The job is done. A man-in-black will come for the money, give it to him." With the message delivered she turned and made her way out of the village.

The road back to the Organization had been short, even so she sighed as she buried the tip of her sword into the earth, lowering herself to the ground to lean against the blade and stare out at the rocky outcrop that the Organization had made it's home. Ermita had told her to return here after not receiving any new requests for yoma to exterminate.

_"So foolish, really. There's villages with yoma in them right now but without a request the Organization can do nothing. I'm sure they'll send one once enough people die and they realize the yoma isn't going to just 'go away.'"_

It was a wonder that the man wasn't a monster himself for saying such things. Of course, that could be said for the whole of the Organization. They were only interested in the money anyway. What they did with all of it was still beyond her. Besides getting materials to make the armor and sword she carried there didn't seem to be much else for them to spend it on.

She would have to find out what they did with it. Maybe the money would give her a lead to some of their darker secrets. It was also possible it was being spent on a dark secret. Now she just needed to wait to get an assignment so she could leave the Organization without raising suspicions on just what she was doing in her free time.

"Oh, it's you. Phantom Miria."

She turned at the sound of a voice, eyes landing on a single bulging eye surrounded by muscle and veins, the flesh stripped away from what she could only guess to having been one of his experiments. "Dae." Every time she tried to see what his experiments entailed she would be forced to go back or be found by one of his observant sentries. He always put more security than necessary around his workplace. He said it was so he wasn't 'disturbed,' but she doubted that was the case.

He grinned, half his teeth showing from the lack of skin on his face. "I thought I felt something familiar, but it seems I was mistaken. Unless... you haven't come into contact with an Awakened Being recently, have you?"

"No. I haven't been on any Awakened Being hunts recently." The Organization had failed to give her another hunt so far after the last one. Where they had given her wrong information. Which was rare, but unusual enough to let her know she was close to figuring out something they would rather her not know. "Anything else?"

He was still standing there, regarding her. "I wasn't sure at first, but there's something different about you. Are you sure you didn't come across anyone unusual in your travels?"

Miria frowned, looking back out at the cliffs. Now he was asking her about unusual people on her trip? Didn't he have some experiment that demanded his attention? She had come out here to have some peace, not be interrogated over something different that Dae thought he had sensed about her. "I'm sure."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "I could have sworn there was... something human about you." She glanced back to him. What exactly was he going on about? Dae smirked now that he had her attention again. "It's just... Well, I'm wondering what human would possibly be intimate with one of your kind, considering the state of your body."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short prologue.

_The wind seemed to cut through her cape as she walked. It wasn't necessarily from any cuts in it though. The material was thin, a dull teal that was frayed at the edges, making it even shorter than it was when she had first bought it some years ago. It still managed to cover the back of her elbows as she walked down the winding road to her destination. But it didn't do much about that wind howling around her, ears and the back of her neck only protected from it by the drawn up hood._

_Even though she had taken her pills, had dressed like this, she still felt someone would recognize her as a Claymore. She didn't even have her sword on her and she couldn't get rid of the feeling that her presence in the area wasn't a secret. Hopefully, it was just some young curious yoma instead of the Organization, but then again she had checked if they had been tracking her for the past few days and found no signs of Ermita or a fellow Claymore following her trail. So it had to be her mind playing tricks on her._

_Miria checked that the two knives still resided in the 'pockets' of her skirt on both sides of her waist. Feeling the cool metal beneath her fingers was reassuring. Even without her blade the usual yoma she found out on her travels and in villages wouldn't take her long to deal with._

_She relaxed when she could see the wall surrounding the town she had been looking for. Not much longer and she would finally have some answers, she hoped._

_Her fingers slid her hood further down as she walked, moving to the small pocket attached to the bronze belt wrapped around her waist to retrieve a few more pills and pop them into her mouth. Perhaps she didn't need to take more than usual, but after coming this far she didn't want to be detected by another warrior, regardless if they were out on an assignment or trying to track her. She also needed to keep her eyes from turning back to their silver hue._

_It would be a dead giveaway to the villagers what she was if they saw her and they talked without concern of who heard them. If the Organization got wind of her being so far away from her assigned location she would be in trouble. It was simple luck that her next assignment was along the border of her designated area. She could make it there in time if she ran fast enough without having to access her yoki powers._

_She glanced down to the dull color of her outfit. It didn't hurt looking like she was just a traveler either. The fabric of the outfit was a cranberry red, except for a thin line of bronze skirting the top of her breasts. The colors were no longer bright enough to draw much attention to herself. Her boots were the same bronze as the belt draped around her waist, metal buckles a darker tint of teal than her cape._

_An older woman had stopped her once, mentioning how lovely the outfit must have looked when she first bought it, and she had agreed. She had used it perfectly as a ruse before when dealing with some more experienced yoma in her early days, drawing them out with the appearance of a human woman lost on an old path cutting through forests and along sheer cliffs only to run her blade through them when they came at her. Those days had been so much simpler compared to this._

_Miria stopped at the edge of the town just inside the walls as her gaze flickered from one building to the next. She was suppose to meet her contact at a pub. One called, Ume Buranchi._

_There it was, further down the street. She walked down the cobblestone road, wishing for the familiar clicking of her metal boots but those were only worn by Claymores. Her presence here was to remain a secret._

_As she stood at the door she debated slipping another pill into her mouth and after a second plucked one from the pouch as she opened the door, pushing it past her lips as she entered the building so no one would see her consume the little dark pill._

_She walked straight up to the bar, leaning against the wood counter. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for someone."_

_"Hm?" The bartender turned towards her as he cleaned a out a glass with a cloth. "Our town is pretty small. I should be able to point you in their direction if I can get a name to work with."_

_"Actually, I had planned to meet with them here, in one of your back rooms."_

_"Oh. So you were what he was waiting here for the past few weeks?" Few weeks? She supposed she had sent word about wanting to meet up with him that long ago, but she hadn't expected him to come straight here to the meeting location. Hadn't the messenger told him she wouldn't likely be able to make the trip right away? "That explains it. Jivra, get over here."_

_Miria bit her tongue to stop herself from trying to correct him. If he wanted to believe she was a prostitute of sorts that was his business, and better for her anyway if he assumed as much._

_"Yes?" A young woman came over, short black hair wound up in a small bun atop her head._

_"Take this woman to the back room of our resident scholar. She has some business with him."_

_"Of course." Jivra gave a short bow before turning to Miria. "Follow me, please." The walk to the room wasn't particularly long, going around a bend in the establishment to enter a hallway beyond the bar, kitchen, and sitting area. Jivra led her to the third door on the left, opening it after a moment of hesitation. "Excuse me, sir. Your guest has arrived." She slipped into the room after Jivra as the waitress started walking around the room. Her gaze slid to the man though rather than the furniture._

_She couldn't see his face at first, just dark strands of hair as he drained a glass of wine held in one hand. The blood red liquid was running down the goblet to disappear between his lips, not a single drop escaping to land on his pale skin. When he set the glass down though and seemed to regard her she just stared from beneath her hood._

_He looked younger than she had expected, a_ lot  _younger. As if he was only in his early twenties. Was this really the man she had been directed to talk to about the history of this land? The villager she had asked to find a suitable lead for her to talk to had said he was the best scholar he knew. She wasn't entirely sure she should have believed him though. He didn't look old enough to have studied for very long, much less know the information she wanted. If he even had it. She had been expecting an old sage, someone with scrolls and books piled around the room they chose to stay in._

_She hadn't spotted a book or even a scroll around the room when she looked around more carefully. This was the last time she trusted her source back in Rivengrad._

_Jivra caught her eye as she stood at the chair opposite of the young man, gesturing for her to have a seat. After a moment Miria walked forward to sit down. She might as well after her journey getting here, but she doubted she would find out anything interesting from this 'scholar.' "Would either of you like anything? Food? More drink?"_

_Her gaze fell to the empty glass he had just set down, she couldn't spot a single drop of liquid in the glass. How much had he been drinking before she even walked in here? Would his speech even be coherent enough for her to distinguish words if he did happen to say something interesting?_

_"I'll have another glass," his voice came out soft, not slurred, just_ soft _. "A slice of rare steak to go with it would be lovely." His gaze moved up from the glass then, looking straight at her and she very nearly jumped when his eyes seemed to connect with hers. "What about you?"_

_For a moment she couldn't find it in her power to speak. His eyes... they were like blank slates, a pale blue reflecting the surroundings but... he couldn't possibly see anything, could he? He had to be blind. "I'm not hungry," she managed to make her tongue move, to get the words out._

_It was a good thing he couldn't hear her earlier thoughts, but with the way he was 'looking' at her it felt like he was seeing into her very being. As if he could tell what she had been thinking. But that was ridiculous. She supposed it was just unnerving her, those eyes of his. "You made quite a trek to come all the way out here to see me. Surely you're the least bit fatigued?"_

_His question made her glance up sharply, eyes raising but holding his gaze, somehow. The way he had spoken just now... did he know? That she was a Claymore? She supposed it was possible, she had met with her contact both in her Claymore attire and civilian outfits before. It wouldn't be too outlandish to suspect that the contact had told him about her identity, just troublesome. If he knew he couldn't possibly expect her to order something. The woman though... "I'll take a glass of wine and a bowl of fruit, if it's not too much trouble." That should take care of her human appearance to the woman._

_"Not at all," Jirva said with a smile as she began to pour wine from a bottle into the scholars' glass. "What sort of wine would you like? We grow the grapes right here and make the wine as well so I can vouch for the quality. As I'm sure this man here can as well." Jirva laughed at her own joke and Miria couldn't help but give a small smile in return, even if the woman wouldn't be able to see it._

_"I'll have the same as him, then."_

_"Excellent."Jirva moved away from the table still holding the bottle of wine, retrieving another glass that she filled to a more normal level than the man's and set her new glass down on the table. "I'll be back with your food in a moment." Jirva set the bottle down in a bucket of ice before it depositing it on the table and then taking her leave._

_After a moment she reached up to lower her hood, glancing from her glass of wine to the other one across the table. His was filled to the brim, and she to wonder - yet again - how his speech wasn't slurred. If he was having his glass filled like that and then downing it much in the same manner she had seen him doing so when she first entered the room he had to be nearly drunk, even with the small alcohol content in the drink._

_Still... he could know something, but she couldn't imagine if it would be helpful to her cause or not. He wouldn't have seen anything odd himself, but maybe he had heard of something she hadn't given his occupation. Perhaps even though he was young he had good mentors in the subject that were now dead. Maybe that's why she had been told he was the best at his-_

_"Ah," the small sound made her look back to him quickly. With his condition it seemed even more important to keep eye contact if they were to be talking. "If those pills you took didn't decrease your yoki abilities I would say you should use them more often. The natural color of your eyes is divine."_

_What? He_ could  _see? But how? An operation, perhaps? But... how did someone even go about doing that? It couldn't be possible... No. There had to be an explanation. His eyes must have gotten like that from an accident. If he really had been blind there was no way he could see her. It just wasn't possible..._

"Do you usually talk such nonsense?" She was tempted to roll her eyes to further prove her point as she looked back out to the cliffs.

"Nonsense you say?" Even without her gaze on Dae she was sure he wasn't smirking anymore, and for that she felt a rush of satisfaction. She had finally found something to shut him up for the time being. Now he just needed to leave her in peace.

"You can't sense intimacy, and it's even more foolish to think any of us Claymores would know of such a thing. It's as you said just now, our bodies to others are horrendous. No one would want to get close. In fact, they would run away. You're no exception to that rule either, you're just patchwork." Her lips twisted up. That should be enough to get him to leave the area now.

"Heh." Low chuckling came from behind her and with a scowl she turned to look at Dae, who in all honesty looked even more like a monster than when she activated her yoki powers. "Interesting."

"It's a fact. There's nothing interesting about it." Why was he still laughing?

"Not to you, perhaps. But it's very interesting to me. Can you not think of one thing that wouldn't care for the scar?"

She could feel her jaw set at his continued pestering, but she had to force her eyes from narrowing directly at him. "No," the lie fell easily from her lips. "I can't think of one thing that wouldn't care for the scar," even as she said the words she could feel phantom lips pressing against her stomach, against her scar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you like the different pov for that one scene? Liking the story so far? Let me know :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile, I know. Sorry about that, but I had to get the plot straight. I've also created a one-shot with Rigaldo's backstory (my version of it anyway) called, First Sunset, which is relevant to this story. And if you've read it before you'll recognize some of the names in this chapter and the one following it; though it's not necessary to have read it to understand what's happening here. Further down the line for this series I'll create a companion piece, probably another one-shot; you'll have to wait to see what it's going to be about though ;)

Her boots let out a dull clang as she walked on the stone path, growing closer to a town she could see just over the ridge, but her eyes weren't focused on what was in front of her.

Miria's mind was hardly concerned with yoma and the few that would soon be dead once she reached her destination and completed her job. No, she was focusing back on that day, when she had met the scholar, trying to piece together who he was; just how he knew about that village, why he had done those... things to her. Though, he had done quite a bit of talking he had never spoken about himself. He hadn't even given her his name when she did think to ask. He had just said,

_"It's not important."_

No, not his own name, but he had mentioned one... Sister Crina. A person of the church. If she could find that person, then maybe she could figure out just who that man was. Beyond his occupation as a scholar that is.

Her gaze focused back onto the town, searching the skyline until she found what she was looking for; a cross standing above the rest of the buildings, clearly marking the location of the church for all in the town that wished to pray. She could start there, right after she was done with her current job. If she was lucky they would have records on the current brothers and -much more importantly - sisters of the faith, scattered throughout the town and villages.

Miria reached for her sword, having no intention of delaying her job any longer and rushed forward.

The land blurred around her as her eyes shifted to gold, muscles straining against the cloth as her yoma power surged through her. With each step her feet cracked the stone beneath her as she ran towards the town, reaching out with her yoki to pinpoint the yoma within.

Seconds after crossing the walls surrounding the city she swung her blade in an arc, blood flying through the air when she struck her target, hitting stone and onlookers alike. Screams filled the air as a man's body appeared to be cut in two so suddenly, the perpetrator only a blur; seen only for a second - if that - and then gone the next.

She took one step forward, spinning on her toes to launch herself through a side alley and into a neighboring street to create another spray of purple blood shortly after. More screams followed and those from the first 'murder' scene were now shouting in confusion as they probably took a better look at the man's body, to realize he had been a yoma disguised as that man.

The crowd around the second scene would soon follow that formula.

Miria turned, eyes stopping on a building as she felt a burst of yoki energy from beyond it. The last yoma had just come out of his disguise.

She gathered her own yoki energy, sending it to her feet just before she jumped over the building, blade raised above her, eyes narrowed and centered in on the yoki energy of the yoma. Her blade came crashing down onto the stone path, a pool of blood staining the ground where a limb from the yoma now laid.

His last remaining arm came at her even as the yoma screamed in pain and rage, hurling insults at her kind as if it would stop his own impending demise. With a swing of her blade the stump of his wrist crashed into her chest, the yoma's hand now laying next to his detached arm. Miria glanced down as the purple blood from his stump soaked into the cloth of her uniform, staining the white fabric. She could feel the warm liquid through the thin barrier, making the cloth stick to her own skin.

She raised her gaze to see the yoma staring at her, horrified at how fast his limbs had become amputated. With a flick of her wrist she cut his expression in half, her blade sliding clean through his skull, his face frozen in that one last moment before death.

Miria slashed her blade through the air to rid it of the purple liquid that had been running down the metal after her most recent kill.

One. Two. Three.

She checked the amount of yoma she had killed with those she had sensed. It was the same; her job here was finished. Miria slid her blade into a slot in the back of her armor, letting her limbs loosen, the fabric no longer stretched thin over her muscle. Her eyes no longer the color of gold she walked away from the dead yoma and through the twisting streets, gaze never leaving the cross that stood alone against the sky.

Miria stopped at the door of the church, pushing it open after a moment and stepping inside the house of worship.

A few faces turned to her, surprised gasps making the other half dozen occupants turn to look at her. At least she wasn't interrupting a sermon then, these people were just here for their own personal reasons, not a public gathering.

The priest standing at the podium was the first to speak, clearly surprised to see one of her kind in a place like this. "You're the one that was hired to kill those yoma."

"Yes." Miria confirmed, walking down the aisle to stop just a few feet from the priest. She didn't want to give the people here fuel to spread rumors, let them say whatever they want besides the truth of the matter. "I came here to ask a favor of you, if it's not too much trouble." She inclined her head as she spoke, indicating her wish to talk elsewhere.

"If I can help in anyway, I will." The priest assured her, motioning with a hand for her to follow him as he led her from the main room and into a hallway, entering a room that must be where he planned events for the church. "What can I do for you?" He didn't bother taking a seat, but she could see her presence here bothered him.

His hands were trembling, probably the reason why he was now busying them by opening a drawer and absently going through the papers within.

She drew her gaze away to look directly into his eyes. "I'm seeking a sister of your order, Sister Crina. Have you heard the name before?"

His hands stopped moving when she spoke, blinking for a moment. She was about to ask the question again when he shook his head, clearly drawing himself out of some state of terror at being looked at so directly by a Claymore. "Sister Crina, you said?" She nodded her head. "Do you know how her name is spelled?"

Miria hesitated, as the priest was already grabbing a quill and some paper. She wasn't sure how the name was spelled, but she figured it was safer to assume it was spelled exactly as it sounded. "C-r-i-n-a."

She listened to the scratching of his quill that followed, glancing down at the paper. It looked right to her, but it still left her uncertain that she would find anything. It was such a small piece of information. What if the name didn't lead her to anything significant?

"Hmm, I've seen this name somewhere before. I have some records in the back if you have the time to go through them with me." He looked like he wanted her to say no, but at the same time he seemed confused by the name in front of him.

"I have the time," Miria told him, assuring the man that his fears had just been confirmed.

His adam's apple bobbed when he gulped, but the priest nodded his head a second later. "Right this way then." He took the paper with him as he exited the room, murmuring to a local sister to go and check on those in the front room before moving further down the hall. Miria shadowed his every step as he used a key to open a room in the back, scurrying inside like a mouse and towards the back, where the layer of dust was thickest.

Miria frowned at this, but moved into the room anyway. "Shouldn't you be looking at more recent records?"

"No, no," he murmured in reply, running a thumb over the bindings of papers that had been threaded together with what appeared to be yarn. "My memory isn't too bad even for my age, and I recall seeing this name in the back when I had been tasked with keeping the place clean in my earlier days. Our recent records aren't completely up-to-date with some of these yoma attacks, but if there is another sister with this name out there your best bet would be to go to Rabona-" he stopped mid-sentence, finger freezing on the stack of papers they were currently pressed against. "I'm sorry for even mentioning their directory. I forgot Claymores aren't allowed in the Holy City."

"It's fine."

At her words he seemed to gather his courage once more, thumbing through the records before pulling one from the shelf. "Right here." He opened the booklet, licking his thumb before flickering through the pages to stop and point at the name written in small hand-written text.

__Si ter       Crina. Fi st stat on d in Librum. Mo ed to Dh a j ._   
_

Miria leaned over to look at it, glancing from the priest's earlier spelling and the one on the page. They were the same, but... it couldn't be right. There was visible wear on the page from the elements, some words and letters completely faded from records; even so it was short like many other surrounding it. There was no significance to this person who...

Her eyes widened.

Who had died nearly two hundred and sixteen years ago, at the age of fifty something - according to the records. This  _couldn't_ be right. That scholar couldn't be referring to this woman when he had spoken the name. There was nothing here to imply she was a historical figure and he had said the name like he was familiar with it; familiar with the person that held it. He couldn't have known this woman.

"Have you seen a different spelling of the name before?"

"Urm." The priest tapped at his chin, before picking up a quill, dipping the dull tip into a ink well and writing on the paper he had brought with him. It took a few minutes before he stopped scrawling on the page completely, staring down at the handful of incarnations of the name he had come up with.

Miria read them out loud, but they sounded... wrong. No, she was certain she had gotten the spelling correct. So why...  _how_  could he have possibly known this woman? It was the only hint she had to that scholar's whereabouts, his name.

She pointed at the city in the records that Sister Crina had been moved to. "What's the name of this city? Do you know if it still exists today? And do you have records that state what happened to Librum? I can't make sense of the letters in the third paragraph pertaining to Sister Crina."

"I don't know about Librum, but the city she was last stationed at was called, Dhaaljk. It's spelled, d-h-a-a-l-j-k. I have some recent records about those stationed there as I'm sure they have records about our own people here. Our church tries to keep every branch up-to-date. Rabona is the only city with a complete collection since the yoma have never taken it down. As I'm sure you know, sometimes we lose whole towns to the threat of yoma. So all branches of the church keep records in case this happens. We don't want to lose our history again, much was destroyed in the past by yoma. I don't believe even Rabona has records extending beyond three hundred years."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the timeline I didn't mention before. I find it difficult to believe the Organization has only been on the island for almost a hundred years or so like most fics seem to tell. My head canon is that Dae and some other members of the Organization extended their lives through experimentation or the lifespans of those on the mainland are longer than those on the island. Like the Dragon-Kin likely are since the yoma parasite originally came from one of their "Awakened" forms, and Claymores stop aging once the yoma flesh is inside them, they just grow to a point. Which puts them coming to the island in this series at roughly a little over two hundred and a half years (269-278, pick a number). And the Era of Men was likely short due to their inevitable Awakening, so it's safe to say it would have lasted for a maximum of thirty(-odd) years, which is the number I'm using here. (Riglado would have Awakened near the end of this era, closely followed by Isley in a few months, which would have ended it since he was the last male Claymore to Awaken; supposedly to kill the other ones) So that's the explanation for that.
> 
> If you like the fic please leave a kudos/comment to let me know.


End file.
